


give me love, love, love and laughter

by Pontmercyingtilthecowscomehome



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, One Shot, POV Han Solo, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:53:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22795855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pontmercyingtilthecowscomehome/pseuds/Pontmercyingtilthecowscomehome
Summary: Han has taken the time to catalog all of Leia's type of laughter, but her giggle remains his favorite.Pure fluff in college AU form, inspired by a recent interview and the most recent HanLeia Challenge prompt.
Relationships: Leia Organa/Han Solo
Comments: 12
Kudos: 33
Collections: HanLeia Challenge





	give me love, love, love and laughter

There are levels to Leia’s laughter, Han knows. He's cataloged all of her laughter, mentally of course, because he's not the type to write stuff down. But the laughter levels, as he thinks of them, are labeled and identified, clear as anything, safe in his thoughts. (Which, admittedly, are often full of Leia, regardless if its thinking of her laughter, or just thinking of her.) Han’s only been her boyfriend for a few months now, but her friend for another year before that. Not too long a time in the grand scheme of things, perhaps, but Han tries not to take any day for granted. Life has taught him that. A year is a long time, in his mind. It’s long enough for him to know a few things about her.

Like her laughter.

Like how important her GPA is to her (4.0, five semesters in a row, taking a full load of economics and political science courses each time.)

Like how she takes her coffee. (Black, over ice, with five packets of natural sugar)

Like how her nose scrunches up so adorably when she giggles. (She doesn’t think it is, though, and makes him retake any selfie where the scrunched up lines show. He obliges, though he’s sad to lose the pictures where she’s the cutest.)

And it's long enough, too, for Han to know he is completely in love with her, even when she’s laughing the exhausted sort of laughter that means she’s had too much coffee and not enough sleep. It's loud enough that he hears it, even through the music he'd been listening to on his ancient semi-smartphone, as he eners the library, passing through the double doors and scanning an ID card that doesn't belong to him with his lazy confidence.

Han thinks her laughter is the perfect accompaniment to the admittedly cheesy classic rock he'd selected, anyway. It's amazing, how, in the past few months, his musical taste has shifted from the Cure and Joy Division, Death Cab and Bright Eyes, (all those bands that gave a voice to the longing he'd never let anyone know he felt) to straight up 80s cheesy rock the minute Leia kissed him. That's the type of effect she has on him, he knows. She, more than anyone else he's ever met, has changed the whole soundtrack of his life.

It’s that exhausted, giddy laughter Han hears now, as he approaches her usual spot in the campus library (in the innermost ring of comfy couches, right past Rebellion Coffee’s kiosk.) And it’s that laughter that makes him shake his head with rueful amusement, knowing full well what he’s getting himself into.

“And that’s why it’s MYtosis and not YOURtosis!” Leia says, flinging her hands into the air and letting all of Luke’s notecards flutter to the ground.

Han knows they’re Luke’s, because each one is written with blue gel pen on environmentally friendly recycled paper and decorated with little stickers of smiling clouds. The kid’s aesthetic, is, as the youth would say (and Han finds every student here to be a Youth, even though he’s nearly the same age) unmistakable.

“I think you should go back to studying your own material,” Cassian tells Leia, as Luke starts to pick up the scattered note cards. “Leave us pre-med kids alone.”

“You’re in macroeconomics tooo,” Leia protests.

“That was more to keep Jyn in line in that class,” Cassian argues with a small smile, which grows when he sees Han. “Ah. Good. Reinforcements.”

“Text received,” Han says, lazily saluting the brown-haired man. He’d received the message that Leia probably needed to be walked home, not because she was drunk, but because she was on her third day of no sleep and who-knows-how-much-coffee. And because it was Leia who needed him, Han showed up, something he’d never thought himself capable of doing before her.

There were a lot of things he’d never thought he’d do, before he met her.

Like learn to drink coffee. (he’d always been more of an energy-drink guy)

Like learn to love her laughter.

Or learn to love her, completely and entirely.

“Thank you,” Cassian, one of the more quiet students at Alliance University, is far more down to earth than a lot of the others. Which also means he gets on Han’s nerves a lot less often than most, whose company Han finds unbearable. When he was once stuck sitting next to Luke’s boyfriend (known by all in the frat the two belonged to as simply “Biggs”) for an entire meal, Han had pretended he didn’t speak a word of English, corresponding with Cassian in Spanish instead.

Instead of commending Han on his impressive knowledge, Leia had lectured him about manners at frat parties, and that no matter how insufferable some people could potentially be, he still needed to be _nice_ to them.

He’d replied he was _nice._ She’d rolled her eyes and called him impossible.

(He even loved her when she was lecturing him.)

Cassian packs up his bag efficiently, carefully adding the pile of hand-written notes that Leia offers him. “I’m not entirely useless,” she says, nodding at the notes. “I think those plans will help.”

“No, you certainly are not useless, princess.”

“Hey!” Han interjects, out of habit. He knows it's just a nickname, since Leia’s father was the President of the entire university, but he still feels… not possessive, no, but more like…

Like Leia is the best thing that’s ever happened in his life, and if there’s one thing he knows about good things, it’s that they never last long at all. He doesn’t want that to be the case with Leia. He wants to hear her laughter, all the different levels of it, for the rest of his life. He wants to wake to her groggy complaints about mornings and fall asleep to her sleep-talking, (or perhaps one might even say sleep-lecturing.)

The amount of _wanting_ he has for that imaginary future hits him hard, once he’s left alone with her in the library. Cassian and Luke had already walked away, both of them chatting about the upcoming bio exam or something just as unimportant to Han. For him, the only thing that matters on this whole campus, full of stuck-up rich kids and obnoxious future political heirs, is Leia. Tuition here, for just one semester, costs more than a year’s pay for an electrician like him. He doesn’t belong at Alliance, any more than he thinks he belongs at Leia’s side.

But here he is, with her, in a library, late at night, as comfortable as if he belongs here (and not only allowed in because of the stolen ID Jyn grabbed for him.)

The library is so quiet, on nights like this. He feels he could almost hear music float through the air, some perfect orchestra soundtrack, like the sort his grandma used to listen to, back when he’d been a kid and life had been sweet. Life hadn’t always been hard for Han. In his past, sometimes, life had been downright wonderful.

Leia makes him feel like that again. Hopeful. Young. Happy.

In this moment, he’s utterly struck by just how beautiful she is. Her long hair has slipped out of its careful braids, and her white zip-up sweatshirt has fallen off one shoulder, revealing the smallest bit of bare skin. Han bends down and kisses there, along the curve of her collarbone, just to make her blush.

“Scoundrel,” she says, as she has from the day he’d shown up to fix the wiring in her sorority’s kitchen.

“Mm,” he agrees, with a smile on his lips. The sorority never did pay that invoice of his, but he figures he just might have gotten the better deal after all.

Leia lets out a small, warm chuckle, that reminds him of soft blankets and crackling fires. It’s her romantic laugh, the one that usually means she’s about to kiss him. And with her arm reaching up for him and the look in her eyes, Han thinks that’s exactly what she plans on doing. But they are in the library and he already has gotten kicked out twice this year, so he probably should behave.

Carefully, Han slides out of her grasp, maneuvering to pick up her quilted backpack and begin to put her supplies inside. “You’re beautiful, you know,’” he tells her offhandedly, as he carefully adds her calculator and zippered pouch of pink pencils into her bag. These are the tools of her trade, so he treats them with respect, as silly as they seem to him.

Just as he says the compliment carefully, instead of saying it too confidently. He makes it sound as if the thought has just popped into his mind and isn’t something he thinks about daily. He’s too afraid to let her know how much he thinks about her, because Han knows he’s not the type to be thought of in return.

“Finish your coffee,” he tells her, shaking the mostly empty reusable mug. “Or you’ll complain later.”

“Will not.”

Han arches an eyebrow at her. They might not have been dating for that long, but in some ways, he feels he knows her better than he even knows himself.

“You’re sweet,” she says, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. She smells like flowers, like that expensive perfume that he can never pronounce, and like coffee, (of course.) “Always looking out for me.”

Or maybe, Han muses, maybe he is still learning who he is, because Leia challenges him to be better than he was before he met her. He’d had no goals beyond _pay the bills_ and _stay out of jail_ the first time their paths crossed. Now, he came with her to knock on doors and campaign for human rights.

Strange, how much one person could change him, when so little in the world had before. Han had always thought of himself as stubborn, as set in his ways, as unmovable. Then, he’d collided with a force just as unmovable, just as stubborn as himself, (and much, much prettier) and he’d found, somehow, that changing didn’t seem that bad. He’d even let Leia take him shopping, just the once, and admitted only to Chewie (since dogs couldn’t share their thoughts on fashion) that the navy jacket looked rather nice on him.

Han did draw the line at Leia changing his hairstyle, despite how often she begged to _style_ it. A man had to stick to his routine for some things, after all. Or so he told Chewie, when the dog seemed to judge him for his new clothes and better hygiene habits.

Soon, when all of the study supplies are packed and the coffee is gone, Leia asks, “you know what you are?”

“Your boyfriend?” Han asks, with more than a slight edge of concern in his voice, just in case she’s changed her mind. He’s always worried about that. He can’t help it. He can’t help but wonder if he’ll still worry, even if he ever works up the nerve to give her that little felt container with that tiny, overwhelmingly terrifying gift inside, that he keeps hidden in the Falcon’s glovebox.

“Pfft,” Leia sticks out her tongue.

“That’s not an answer, your worshipfulness,” he teases.

“Meanie,” she retorts, using the same regal tone he’s heard her use on the campaign trail. There’s a laugh that matches that tone, one that strikes fear into most people’s hearts. It just fills Han with awe at her poise and her confidence.

Right now, in the library, he just puts his hands over his heart and staggers backward as if he’d been shot.

“You… laser brained moon jockey.” Leia yawns, then rubs her eyes.

She hadn’t been allowed to swear in her home, something that shows in most of her insults. “That’s a new one.” Han says, teasing her, since he could swear through the alphabet by the time he was eight.

A small, single laugh escapes her. He knows that laugh too. It’s one of relief, one that shows him, that for all his worrying that he’s the emotionally closed off one in this relationship, that Leia is just as worried that she’s rubbish at all of this, that the whole _dating_ thing is new to her too. She shakes her head. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m so giddy. I should get back to… to…” she yawns again. “Studying.”

“You’re fine,” he tells her. “It’s okay to relax. Isn’t your test like, next month or whatever?” The trade school he’s in doesn’t have exams, not the way Leia’s classes do. Even if it did, Han isn’t the type to study for them.

She smiles. “Two weeks.”

“Close enough. How ‘bout you call it a night?”

“Maybe,” Leia replies. “But…”

“But what?”

“I’m… tired.” She yawns. “I’m just… really tired.” She stretches out on the couch, looking as comfortable as a cat who’d found a spot of sunlight to curl up in. Leia is more than a little feline, with her perfect mix of playfulness and aloofness. Han, in comparison, figures he’s as close to the human version of a Great Dane as possible. Clumsy, loud, and a little too enthusiastic at times. Maybe that’s why for the longest time, Chewie had been his closest friend, his only confidant. “I could just take a nap right here.”

“No, no, the last time you did that you got trapped in here and that Janitor Tarkin dude tried to get you suspended.” Han shakes his head. “I hate that guy. Less we have to deal with him, the better.”

“You make a good point.” She makes a noise half-yawn, half-laugh. Han adds that new one to his list of hers, not sure yet what to classify it as, beyond _adorable._ “You are just… you’re you. You know that, right? And you’re also…”

“Yes?”

Leia’s response is just to laugh again, falling back into the exhausted giggling he had heard when he walked in.With her backpack over his shoulders, Han decides now is the time for decisive action.

Carefully, Han scoops her up, cradling her head against his chest. She sighs, all the tension slipping out of her body. Sometimes he thinks she tries to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders. Other times, he thinks she might have already succeeded at doing that. With a yawn, she asks, “Han?”

“Yes?”

“Can we stay at your place tonight?”

His place is a battered old camper with an oversized dog and questionable electrical wiring that he hasn’t gotten around to fixing just yet. Her place is a luxurious sorority house with marble countertops and a working fireplace. But, with a smile, he simply says, “Sure, Leia.”

As he pushes open the library doors, still carrying her, she admits, (without a laugh, without any mirth at all), “I just… miss home.”

She didn’t speak much of what it had been like, losing her entire family in such a horrible tragedy, so when she brings it up, on the rare occasions like tonight, Han knows enough to hold her a little tighter, to kiss her forehead and promise her “you’ll always have a home with me.”

It’s cheesy, he knows. But Han means it, every word. Someday, maybe someday soon, he’ll work up the courage to let her know just how much he means it. After all, he's been carrying around his grandma's ring for a long time. Someday, it should go to the person that makes him laugh, the way she once did. His grandma would have liked Leia, he knows, deep within his bones. The same way he knows that right now, holding Leia in his arms, he's never felt lighter or more at peace. It's the effect she has on him, the result of her immovable force meeting his. It's the effect of her love on him. Someday, maybe, her laughter will be the soundtrack to his whole life, and not just the highlights of it.

“I know.” Leia gives him a tired smile. “That’s why you are…” she yawns once more.

“You finally going to tell me what I am?”

Leia giggles, which is Han’s favorite level of laughter. It’s the sort of laugh she only shares with him, the sort that bubbles out from her like pure joy. Her nose scrunches up and her eyes glimmer like starlight. There’s something mischievous about her giggle. Something wild and free, something sweet and trusting, that makes him hope, just for a moment, that if, one day, he asks her that big, scary question and holds out that tiny, terrifying ring, that she just might say yes.

Han chuckles, both at the thought, and in response to her own delighted giggle. Han has learned to like his own laughter around her, to drop the facade and lose his bitter smirk, indulging instead in real humor. Laughing honestly, with her, just as much as she has made him an honest man in so many other ways. “Tell me,” he says.

Her giggle echoes in the quiet night, as the snow falls around them. Leia has many levels of laughter, but Han loves all of them, just as much as he loves her. He bends down to kiss her, as if he could taste the happiness she exudes.

She cups his face, her thumb stroking his day-old stubble, and peers up into his eyes. He smiles down at her, amused by her as he hopes to always be. Carefully, Leia kisses him, just once, on the lips. “You, Han Solo,” she says, “are a snack.”

**Author's Note:**

> Look, the moment I saw Harrison's face trying to process being called a snack, I had to write this fic. Comments welcome!


End file.
